


Stardust

by GufettoGrigio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mentioned only - Freeform, slightly canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 22:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18417155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio
Summary: "Be humble for you are made of earth, be noble for you are made of stars."For those who still believe in love (at last sight).





	Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly canon divergent for the end scene of Infinity War: Peter goes before Stephen. Just bear with me :)

**Stephen**

 

When Thanos snaps his fingers there is no pain.

Stephen feels it, deep down in his soul. He feels the moment their reality changes. He feels it in time with his heartbeat: billions of souls gone in a single pulse, twice as many gone in a second. By the third, he _knows_ it’s coming for him too. He already knew, of course. He had seen it. But he hadn’t _known_ \- being aware that you are going to die is different from feeling death coming.

Well, nothing to be done about it now. He has already seen everything that is going to happen. He has a 98% certainty that it’s going to be alright. Eventually. The remaining 2% is hope - the last thing to go even while half of the universe is busy dying.

 Still, when it reaches him, he fights it. It’s instinct, nothing more.

He may have underestimated the strength it takes to keep to a decision already made.

Around him, his companions are starting to turn to ashes too. Quill is already gone, wide eyed and lost in the face of their defeat.

_Wait. Did we just...lose?_

Stephen inhales sharply at that echoed thought, feeling the other Peter follow him to the dust too. His body starts to shake, shudders running down deep in its foundations. He doesn’t want to let it happen and yet it just _does_. It is out of his hands now, either way.

That’s when Stephen looks up. Up from his trembling hands, up from the million futures all collapsing in front of him, up from the dust of a ruined planet.

He looks up at the one person whose continued existence matters. Up at Tony Freaking Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. At Ironman, still in his shell of metal. At the Merchant of Death, leader of the Avengers and saviour of the Earth. Stephen looks up and doesn’t see any of these things.  

He sees a man.

A man with a soul so bright it steals his breath away.

 

_____

 

Of course, there had always been something about Tony that was just _special._ Stephen had known it immediately. He had felt it all the way back to when the man first set foot in the Sanctum. Stark had an intensity about himself, a brave light that refused to be suffocated or overlooked. Stephen had written it off as childish ego fuelled by a sharp mind.

He had been wrong.

He had realized his mistake on the ship, with Stark so close that they were breathing the same air. It had dawned upon him in that too short, too intimate space that Stark’s great mind was not the fuel to the light but rather its worst shadow. That was why Stephen had gone along with Tony’s suicidal idea of bringing the fight to Thanos. Not because he personally thought it was better but because he had suddenly been faced not with a rational mind trying to minimize damage but with a kind heart fueled by a will of iron, ready to sacrifice everything to protect those he loved. He had realized with clarity that Stark would alway protect everyone but himself, that he was ready to put everything he was on the line, that he was ready to be nothing to save everything. Just because he could.

And if that was not enough, Stephen did not know what would be.

So he had gone along, hoping that his threat of saving the Time Stone first would never come to pass. Because Stephen had felt that will resonate inside himself and he had done more than respected Stark for it.

He had admired him. He had felt how important it was to cherish that selfless strength and he had _cared_.

But this..this is different.

Stephen looks up at Tony now - up at that beautiful soul cracking with grief as the boy disappears from his arms - and knows all at once what it means to love someone.

It’s a mind shattering, all encompassing feeling, one that washes over him in one tidal wave filling up the depth of his soul, cementing itself all the way down to the forgotten corners of his heart. Stephen has _loved_ before but not like this. Cristine, Karl...they cannot compare to this. Nothing can compare to this.

Stephen is not sure if he wants to laugh, cry or scream. Here, in this moment where everything is lost, he has found what he has been looking for all his life. In this moment he has no way of surviving, he has found a reason to live. Millions of lives have stretched before him and yet this...this minuscule stretch of time between two heartbeats surpasses all of them and more. The irony of it. And the beauty too.

None of it matters when Tony turns around and Stephen sees him _shatter_.

There is no accusation. Just grief.

And a plea - silent, raw, desperate. _Please don’t leave too._

Please, Strange.

Please.

 

_____

 

Stephen’s heart misses the fourth beat as he starts turning to dust. This time there is pain.

The knowledge that he can do nothing - that he himself has inflicted this suffering - is almost as overwhelming as the bright love he felt a moment ago.  A good outcome in facts does not take away from the despair of the survivors. He knew that. But he hadn’t _known_ it.

Now he does. And Tony does too.

Stephen can justify his actions but will never forgive himself for this.

So he tells the truth. Because that is all that is left, as useless and fragile as it is.

_Tony. There was no other way._

He hopes that, even as his soul silently wails in agony, Tony will understand.

Without waiting for the next heartbeat Stephen is gone.

 

**Tony**

 

The cold is what has always spelled doom for Tony Stark.

From the biting wind of the Afghanan nights and the freezing void of the Chitauri portal to the snowy woods of Tennessee and ending with the damned ice of a Siberian bunker, cold has always been Tony Stark’s enemy. His grief has fingers of frost, stretching all the way back to a frigid December night, and their grasp has never let go of his heart, only winding tighter and tighter,more and more bitter with each new loss.

Now Tony is scorched with the heat of a dead planet and it still _hurts_.

Ashes are scattered around him, people and dust all mixed together. Tony cannot fully wrap his mind around what happened, what’s happening - the human brain is not made for numbers as big as half the Universe, not even Tony Stark’s. It’s something so utterly horrifying, so tremendous it seems to fill the horizon, as far and further than he can push himself to look. His mind is spinning in circles, more and more cracks appearing each time it replays Peter’s words, the last words of a child apologizing for leaving him with another fault. Another grief. Another failure.

What is left of his heart though does not need to know the universe. His heart is stuck on the ashes slipping out of his hands.

On the fact that Peter is gone.

_Dead._

That’s beyond any fault. That’s beyond any failure or blame. It does not need apology. For maybe the first time in Tony’s life, it is not guilt that drowns him. He can’t be selfish like that when there is only ashes around him.

_From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust._

_Remember, man, that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return._

Oh, Tony knows how to pray despite the ego people always accuse him of. But his prayers fall on deaf ears - it’s not like anybody ever listens to him anyway...anybody he cannot buy at least and he is going to stop that thought right there because blasphemy and judgement day and all that. His questions too are lost to silence.

_Why did you do it?_

His hands are cold, his fingers numb. His suit is in pieces and he does not want to call it back. The heat mocks him, his body frozen in the swelter, ashes sticking to his sweaty face.

In the unforgiving heat of Titan it’s clear to him at last: the cold that he had kept at bay, the one laying siege to his soul for years, the one that had threatened to break his heart at the rhythm of Steve’s shield pounding his chest...well, that cold is finally in.

_I will not hesitate to let you or the kid die._

Strange is a man of his word, after all. Because this is Tony’s doom. Tony’s death. This is where Tony loses his soul even if not his life.

 

_____

 

The Sorcerer is the last one left. Tony turns to him, uncaring of the emotions running free on his face. He has no strength left to care, no place left to hide.

His treacherous heart give one last, stubborn beat of hope, like a wounded animal striking out one last time.

“Why did you do this?”

_Please don’t go._

_Please, tell me what I am supposed to do._

_Please, tell me there is hope._

There is none.

Strange’s eyes are on him, cutting into what is left of his soul. Tony sees them shift, sees the pain morph into wonder.

What has this man seen?

What is Tony himself seeing? What is left that can light up those eyes with such a bright emotion like a match suddenly struck in the darkness? How can he still look at him like the world matters? Like _Tony_ matters?

 

_____

 

_The cold is in._

Yet under that gaze Tony cannot surrender to it. He cannot even embrace it.

In a limbo of heat and cold, this strange man’s eyes are looking at him with the warmth of a lover, carrying within them the fresh hope of possibilities and beginnings. Anger, grief, loss, vengeance. Tony’s own destruction in their thores would give him purpose, give him power. Yet Tony finds himself unable to let them drown him.

Stephen Strange is looking at him and Tony is not an Avenger anymore. He cannot be. Vengeance is not enough.

It’s in surprise that Tony sucks air in, a stilted gasp that hurts his throat. It’s been so long, so long since his battered soul has felt fresh air, his airways so rusty, so matted with grief and crushed under the unforgiving weight of betrayal.

“Tony.”

That voice, deep and calm, speaks his name in a tone that is only an apology for the pain he is causing, not for the actions. An apology for Tony alone, not for the Universe.

_The shield moves back and doesn’t come down again._

Tony finds himself exhaling, feeling the pain as he realizes the Sorcerer too will turn to dust.

“There was no other way.”

The air comes rushing back in. Strange is gone. Tony is breathing.

And the oxygen in his lungs fuels a fire so bright to light up the Multiverse.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this within half an hour of finishing Infinity War and then got stuck so it has been sitting in my computer for a good year. With End Game coming up I just thought I might as well edit it down and put it out here as it is since canon is going to overtake me anyway. I hope it wasn’t too confusing.  
> Let me know if you liked it (or didn’t)!
> 
> On an unrelated note: I am looking for a beta for a bunch of random fics (though nothing Avengers right now, sorry). If someone is interested, drop me a message on tumblr: https://gufettogrigio.tumblr.com/


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